


Dusk

by NishkaGray



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Curtain Fic, Drabble, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-04
Updated: 2014-04-04
Packaged: 2018-01-18 04:05:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1414426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NishkaGray/pseuds/NishkaGray
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p><b>Disclaimer</b>: You may not copy, reproduce, distribute, publish, display, perform, modify, create derivative works, transmit, or in any way exploit any of my content, nor may you distribute any part of this content over any network, including a local area network, sell or offer it for sale, or use such content to construct any kind of database.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Dusk

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer** : You may not copy, reproduce, distribute, publish, display, perform, modify, create derivative works, transmit, or in any way exploit any of my content, nor may you distribute any part of this content over any network, including a local area network, sell or offer it for sale, or use such content to construct any kind of database.

It’s dusk. Those precious few moments right after the sun goes down when the sky in the distance is still pale and transparent. Dean has to admit that he likes it. The glow of the road that’s just about to disappear, the mountains in the distance hovering between light and darkness. The mountains have no name. The road has no name or number. Because this is their world and it can be whatever they want it to be. Sam prefers it this way though. This soft and hushed silence as the day is dying down and the night is about to start. Once in a while Sam will change his mind, the world around them shifting to sunrise, complete with dappled sunlight coming down through the tree branches and a cool morning breeze brushing across their faces. Dean likes the nights; he always has. But these quiet sunsets, forever suspended, never changing, always just hanging by a thread, have become his favorite. Because Sam looks happy.

Somewhere between then and now, Sam has grown younger. His face has smoothed out, his forehead losing the worry marks. He’s still as tall as ever, but all those muscles he’d spent years building up to become a faster, more efficient hunting machine have melted away. Dean touches his own face every once in a while, wondering if he’d grown younger too. If this is what the afterlife did for everyone. Then he realizes that Sam had only gone back to the way he was before; before dad died, before Jessica burned, before the world had hurt him over and over again. Sam had gone to his happy time, which meant Dean would look exactly the same. Because his happy time had always been Sam. 

The hood of the Impala feels warm under his thighs, as though the sun had heated its surface all day before finally going down. It hadn’t. It had been dusk for ages. Centuries. Lifetimes. The cooler at their feet is always full and the empty bottles simply melt away. The beer tastes as it always has, and Sam’s fingers brushing his are real enough. This is their eternity. Empty highway stretching into the unknown. Sam’s dimples flashing slightly as he passes Dean another beer. 

Every once in a while Dean will break the silence. Just because he doesn’t know, he has no way of telling how long it’s been since he said it last. A worm of unease will sneak its way into his peace, reminding him that years could have passed. Decades since he reminded Sam, since he’d made sure that Sam knew.

He’ll say it quietly, so he doesn’t disturb the dusk around them.  
“I love you.”

And whether he’d said it minutes or hours or centuries ago, Sam will always smile. His hand will come up to brush the freckles on Dean’s cheek, fingers tracing a pattern Dean will never understand.  
“I know.”


End file.
